


drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart

by blueabsinthe



Category: Chicago Med
Genre: Communication Failure, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: S1E12, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mild D/s, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post 1.12 - Guilty, Rough Sex, Roughness, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 15:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6962053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will tries to come up with a retort, but finds the pressure and warmth from Connor’s fingertips isn’t on his wrists anymore. He feels cold and vulnerable without the pressure there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart

**Author's Note:**

> And now for something completely different. Um, hi. This is a nice little deviation from my norm (even if it is a little nerve wracking), I guess.
> 
> It was the damn elevator scene! That's my excuse for going down this rabbit hole. 
> 
> Title from the Florence + the Machines song _Howl_.

Tonight the lights in Molly’s are blinding. The rest of his shift passed by in a collision of colour and light and sound. The world never seems to stop turning.

Will sits in his seat at the bar, speaking in monosyllables to anyone who recognizes him. His hand trembles as he raises his glass, swallowing a mouthful of the amber liquid. He watches Connor out of the corner of his eye. He’s pensive, staring at no one or nothing in particular. 

Will’s not sure what to say, or if he really wants to say anything. He’s ignored every form of communication from anyone tonight. There’s a sharp tug of something in his belly. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is. It feels like frustration, exhaustion, and anger all rolled into one. 

He grips his glass tighter, in an effort to stop his hand from shaking. God, he feels like he could hit something. He wants to wake up to sticky sheets, a throbbing headache, and someone sleeping next to him. Anything to remind him that yes, he can make bad decisions and still emerge relatively unscathed. He needs a distraction. Something else to focus on, instead of the way it felt when Connor pressed him up against the elevator wall earlier.

A twinge of pain tingles in his arm, as a memory of Connor trapping him against the elevator wall creeps up. Will swears he can still feel the warmth of Connor’s breath against the side of his neck, and how it felt for one moment to be rendered almost helpless.

He can hear his blood roaring through his veins, the frustration palatable now, the longer he sits next to Connor in silence. 

“The words won’t speak themselves, y’know.”

It’s the first words Connor has spoken to him since they ended up at Molly’s. 

Will sits a little straighter in his seat, silently annoyed with Connor’s tone. “You wouldn’t understand,” he mumbles, pressing the glass to his lips again. 

“Try me.”

Will puts his glass down on the countertop, the sound ringing in his ears. “Forget it, Rhodes.”

“I get it, you’re pissed.”

Will drew his lips into a thin line, feeling as his jaw twitched at the movement. His hands balled into loose fists on the counter. “Wouldn’t you be?”

Connor shrugged. “Sure. But, I wouldn’t want to lose my medical license over it.”

Will rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you have people who could get _that_ reinstated.”

“Because that sounds logical, and oh so plausible.” Connor got up from his seat then, throwing down enough bills to cover his and Will’s drinks. He puts a hand down, curling his fingers around Will’s wrist. 

“That’s your cue to get up,” Connor notes, gesturing to the semi-crumbled bills on the counter.

Will swipes his glass off the counter and finishes his drink in one long swallow. 

“Liquid courage?” Connor jokes, lip twitching in amusement. 

“Shut up.”

Connor laughs, moving towards the door, checking once to see if Will is following him. 

The air feels electric as he steps outside the warmth of Molly’s. And then he loses all train of thought as Connor steps into his space, his voice low. “You’re pissed, I get that,” he repeats.

Will shoves Connor away. “Yeah, and like I said, never mind.”

Connor grips Will’s wrists, drags him in close again. “If you’re looking for a fight, Will, let’s do it somewhere more private.” He eyed Will, eyes dark and violent. “I know what you want,” he notes. “What you need.”

Will allows his eyes to meet Connor’s. A warm flush rushes to his cheeks, and he’s grateful it’s dark out. He chews at the inside of his cheek as he lets Connor’s words register in his brain. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Connor whispers against Will’s ear. His voice is low and laced with promise. 

Will tries to come up with a retort, but finds the pressure and warmth from Connor’s fingertips isn’t on his wrists anymore. He feels cold and vulnerable without the pressure there.

They don’t speak for the next little while as Connor tasks himself with hailing a cab.

Will’s not exactly sure when they end up at Connor’s until Connor is in his space again, pushing him up against the door, hands resting on his hips. 

“You wanna yell at me now?” Connor asked. 

Will could feel the fight leaving his system the longer Connor kept him pinned against the wall. “Why? You want an excuse to hit me?”

The corner of Connor’s lip twitches in amusement as he takes a step away from Will, eyeing him in silence. “Is that what you want?” His tone was softer than Will expected. 

Will hesitates, working to clear the cobwebs in his brain, sifting through to find an appropriate response. “You don’t really strike me as the giving type, Rhodes.”

Connor laughs, before he steps out of his shoes, shrugs out of his jacket, unbuttons his cuffs, and starts on the buttons lining his chest. Will couldn’t help feeling small and vulnerable watching Connor. He trembles, laying his palms against the wall to steady himself.

He is all too aware of how little distance is separating them, how he can see the pulse point jump in Connor’s neck. Will cannot help but stare, almost transfixed by the tiny jump. He doesn’t realize Connor is back in his space again, until he feels Connor thump him in the chest.

Will grabs Connor’s wrist and tugs hard. He means to get Connor up against the wall, but Connor is one step ahead of him. He grips Will’s free hand and tugs hard, turning him around lightning quick, so Will is pressed face first against the door. Connor keeps Will’s hand pinned behind him, and he shoves his hips forward, relishing in the way Will’s breath leaves his body. 

“I’m in a giving mood,” Connor says, grinding his hips in hard.

Will pushes back against Connor, turning his wrist in Connor’s grip, and bites his bottom lip as Connor’s grip tightens. He lets out a yelp that is a cross between frustration and approval. He can feel his cock twitch in his jeans. He’s been with his fair share of people, but he can’t remember the last time he got this worked up. Or this fast. 

This was all shades of fucked up. 

Connor has his other hand curled around Will’s neck, his long, nimble fingers trailing over the buttons lining Will’s shirtfront. He leans in, presses his mouth against Will’s neck, his teeth nipping at the soft juncture where neck meets shoulder. “Tell me what you want, Will.”

The hand Connor has gripped behind Will’s back, slips from his grasp. Will claws in desperation at Connor’s arm, hears as Connor’s breath catches.

He feels Connor let go, and he lets his forehead rest against the wall, jaw slack as he breathes in mouthfuls of air. Connor has a hand against Will’s hip, turning him around. Before Will can say anything, Connor ducks his head, teeth scraping over the side of his neck. His hips twitch towards Connor, and he hisses out a swear word as Connor pushes back. 

“C’mon Will,” Connor murmurs against Will’s skin. 

Will frowns, before he reaches out to grip at the fabric of Connor’s shirt. He tugs on the fabric of the shirt, hearing as buttons skitter to the floor. In the momentary distraction, Will manages to shove Connor off him and get away from the wall. 

Connor eyes him intently, looking at ease with the whole proceedings. He reaches a hand for Will again, tugging him close. His mouth is hovering over Will’s. “That the best you got?” 

And before Will can come up with a witty response, Connor shoves him back against the wall. Will’s back slams against the wall, his breath leaving his body in a whoosh. 

Connor has one of Will’s arm twisted in his grip, just to the point of being uncomfortable. He pins Will against the wall, his mouth hovering over Will’s ear, before he bites down on the lobe. 

“You’re gonna owe me a shirt.” 

Will makes a sound halfway between a whimper and a growl of frustration. He moves in an effort to dislodge Connor, and Connor grips his wrist a bit tighter. “This what you want, Will?”

“Fuck, yes,” Will chokes out, pushes back into Connor, panting at the effort. 

Connor rubs hard against Will, nudges his forehead against the side of Will’s neck. A drop of sweat trickles down Will’s neck, sliding over his collarbone.

“What do you want?” Connor whispers, tongue licking over the sweat trailing down Will’s neck. 

Will arches his hips to try and create more friction between his and Connor’s pants, thinking about how there is still way too many layers of clothing separating them. He thinks about how he wants to get Connor naked in bed, hear him swear and whine as he presses a slicked finger in and out of his hole. Wants to watch him writhe and claw the sheets as he begs. But, he can’t seem to get the words to his lips. He jerks against Connor, licks his lips in an effort to get his mouth to work. 

“I … fuck, Connor, I need …”

Connor eases the pressure ever so slightly, breath hot against Will’s neck. “Yes?”

Will fumbles with his free hand to pull Connor’s hips closer, desperate for the contact. “No, get - Fucking hell, Connor. Please. Don’t st -“

Connor slams Will back against the wall, grinds back in, and reaches a hand down to get the button on Will’s jeans undone. He manages to get the zipper undone shortly after, his hand slipping inside Will’s briefs. He jerks Will slowly, warm skin pressed against warm skin.

“You’re so sensitive,” Connor whispers, feeling as Will’s cock twitches in his hand. 

“I know … I know …” Will mumbles, the nails from his free hand clawing at the finish of the wall. 

Connor releases Will’s hand, and withdraws his hand from the confines of Will’s jeans. “Take your clothes off.”

Will complies, not looking at Connor until he slides his jeans to the floor. 

Connor shrugs out of his shirt at an agonizingly slow pace, watching Will’s expression. Will bit his bottom lip as Connor stripped off his belt and pants. He was hard, his cock pressing against the front of his boxers. It made Will’s mouth water. 

“More?” Connor asks, eyes intent as a hand brushed lazily across his cock. 

“Yes,” Will hisses. 

Connor was across the space lightning fast, lips catching on Will’s in a messy clash of tongues and teeth. 

Will jumps slightly as Connor strokes him through his boxers. He trembles and digs his fingers into Connor’s hip. “Fucking hell. Don’t you fucking stop.”

Connor chuckles. “What kind of a guy do you take me for?” 

Will arches his hips up, grinds in, feeling the weight of Connor’s cock against his. God, he’d look so good spread out on the bed, his fingers stretching him until he begged. He tries to get the words out, half-sentences and words getting lost to the air as Connor jerks against him.

“Shit,” Will hisses, as Connor traps his hips against the wall, grinding in. Will has his hands on Connor’s hips, fingers digging in as he jerks against Connor one last time, coming in his boxers in a rush. 

Connor presses his mouth to Will’s, shoving his boxers down, and circling his hips against Will’s a few more times before he’s coming all over the front of Will’s boxers and the taut skin of his abdomen. 

Will was boneless against the wall, the warmth of Connor’s body felt nice, welcoming almost. He blinks as everything starts to come into focus. Connor is breathing harshly against his shoulder, hands braced on the wall by Will’s head. 

Connor is the first to move, grimacing slightly as he notices the stain on the front of Will’s shorts. Will is too tired to say anything as Connor nudges him towards the bed. 

“You still owe me a shirt,” Connor mutters in the dark.

“Yeah,” Will replies, breath ghosting over Connor’s bare shoulder. “Yeah, I know.”


End file.
